A Midsummer Night's Dream
by Star Anise
Summary: During Alice's absence, ill fortune has stirred around a particular Hatter. Alice is called back, only to be told that she alone can help him... But she may get - or give - a little more than she bargained for...
1. Chapter 1 Nightmare Eclipse

**AiW Kink Entry**

**'A Midsummer Night's Dream'**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Alice in Wonderland, least of all Tim Burton's amazing work. Nor do I own any of the scripted lines or rhymes below.

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**Chapter One – 'Nightmare Eclipse'**

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The colours were all wrong.

There was too much amber. There always was when he was angry, when he felt the raging madness climb up inside him, leaping and licking, burning way his mind like the flames of Horvendush Day.

That day…

Branded permanently into his memories, the day of feeling the naturally mercurial madness just _**snap**_, spoil and fester, everything he knew collapsing in chaotic dust and ash, vanishing before his eyes. His little niece***** lying tumbled on the ground, the top hat (identical to his own) he'd guided her through making that very morning especially for the party askew on her head, before she burst to ash and nothingness in a flash of electric purple fire… _"Uncle Tarrant…!"_

All gone… vanished.

Just like _**she**_ had.

She…

_**She**_ had the colours he needed. He knew she did. He could see them in his mind's eye (_"Put it out of your mind!"_), he could almost taste them – Cool mint and fresh jasmine of pale eggshell blue cloth… Warm sunshine and spiced tea of wheaten white-gold hair… Sugar-sweet vanilla and honeysuckle of creamy skin… Hot, liquid velvet coffee and chocolate brown eyes.

Eyes… _"Still she haunts me, phantom-wise, __**Alice**__ moving under skies, never seen by waking eyes"_… Oh, a rhyme… Never by waking eyes… a dream…

His own eyes reflect this dreadful flaming amber onto everything. How can he think clearly when he can't even see clearly? How can you see past your own vision? Bright, poisonous orange always at the corners… _Swat it, get rid of it, grasp it, crush it_… Pain, his own hair tearing in fistfuls from his scalp, stamped into the ground, strewn amongst dead leaves like glowing embers amongst ash… Hot, red… Red, anger, blood, _"Downal with Bluhdy Big Heid!"_ So much pain, anger, loss and _where was __**she**__, __**she**__ was late, why had __**she**__ left him?_ He needed _**her**_ here, needed _**her**_ to touch him, to tell him _**she**_ hadn't been a dream.

Like a wish answered, a ghostly hand touched his cheek. _**She**_ was back, _**she**_ had come to save him! But…

The colours were wrong. White, too white. _White isn't a real colour, it's all the colours and none of them._ White was wrong, it showed darkness too easily, it only masked the faults, like snow over mud. Too white, whiter than a ghost, too cold, like frost and snow, winter blotting out everything. And this white-ghost-woman's face hovers before his own, her black lips moving, but he cannot hear, he cannot understand what she says. And he does not care. She is wrong, she is not the right one, she is not _**her**_… This wrong one had tricked him into thinking that _**she**_was back!

Enraged, he slaps her hand away and reaches for her throat. Let her feel the pain he feels – she will pay for her trickery!

But now there are more hands, at his head, his necks, his legs, there are arms and torsos forcibly encircling his own, pinning his limbs to his sides, immobilising him. Cold metal encircles his wrists and ankles and the memories burst forth again, filthy black, grey and brown boiling over… He won't be constrained to wait for death again (_"Off with his head!"_), the _Bluhdy Big Heid_ won't take him again… Bleeding red and black, she knows, the **m**alicious, **m**oronic **m**urderess, but words that begin with the letter '**M**' are no good any more, they're gone, _**she**_ is gone, gone **m**issing.  
_"We're looking for an '__**A**__' word now"_, and it's **a**lways **a**lways **a**lways **a**loneness, **a**bandonment, **a**bsence, like the **a**bsence of colour in this wrongly white room (bitter, bleeding, salt-in-the-wounds taste), the **a**bsence of _**her**_, of _"__**Alice, Alice, Alice**__, where are you, why have you left me…?!_

"_I'll be back again before you know it."_ But she isn't there and he knows it.

**  
You're late, Alice. Far too late.**

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**Author's Notes**

***** Hatter's niece – I noticed a shot of a little girl lying on the ground with a top-hat on in Hatter's flashback of the film, and I decided to play with the idea of very personal loss for him on that day, explaining why he no longer seem associated with his clan. I thought perhaps she might have been his apprentice to hatting for the White Queen, as he says "Hightopp clan have always been employed at Court." But I didn't want to make her his daughter, so there you go. Niece.

Please R&R – Constructive criticism much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2 Liminal Twilight

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Alice in Wonderland, least of all Tim Burton's amazing work. Nor do I own any of the scripted lines or rhymes below.

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**Chapter Two – 'Liminal Twilight'**

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Alice gaped at the White Queen in a manner that her mother would certainly have deplored as 'most improper'.

But what would be new there, really?

"Ah… a-and you're telling me that I'm the only one who can… ah… do, um, this? H-help him, I mean? The Hatter? T-Tarrant?"

"I am afraid so, Alice." Mirana watched her closely, concern straining her pearly face. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I 'm sorry to have to do so, but once again it seems you are our last and only hope."

"Sounds familiar" murmured Alice, rubbing her temple. "I'm sorry, your Majesty, but might I have some time to think?"

_I think I…I need a moment._

Mirana nodded. "Of course, my dear. But I feel I must warn you, time has always been extremely fickle concerning Tarrant."

"_Time can be a funny thing in dreams."_ Alice's own words came back to her as the White Queen swept out of the room, gracefully closing the door. Sighing, she placed her face in her hands, leaning back in her chair to contemplate all that had happened, all that she had been told that day… And what might yet be to come.

* * *

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_Alice sighed as she closed the drawer of completed paperwork._

_After four years as Lord Ascot's apprentice, she had become quite a successful business-woman, much to the surprise of the general society. She was particularly glad of it, as having coupled her earnings (Lord Ascot having generously insisted upon paying her the same as any male apprentice – just as well, as she would have demanded no less anyway) with a portion of her inheritance from her father (which had stunned her mother – "What's left will hardly make a respectable dowry, Alice!"), she had purchased a third of the company back into the family. She had even made a profit, as Lord Ascot had given her a 5% discount out of respect for her father and in gratitude at her having successfully secured a trading post in Peking******._

_Now, with her affairs largely in order, Alice had been seriously considering a proper return to Underland (or Wonderland, as she still called it in her mind) – preferably sooner than later. Despite her success, there was very little to keep her here – indeed, it could be said that it only gave her more reason to go._

_Her mother Helen could rest assured of financial support – not that their 'misfortunes' had ever actually made them 'poor' – just closely aware of risks. After all, the aristocracy don't retain their riches without awareness and according action. And even if trouble should arise, Alice had certain…allies she knew could be counted on. Lord Ascot, of course – but also the Chattaway twins, who had taken a leaf from her book and had turned out to be quite a formidable pair of workers. And of course, Lowell. Alice smirked to herself. As the man (if the lowlife could be called such) knew that he had the company to thank for Margaret's substantial dowry, he now had to tread carefully around Alice. If he… displeased her… in any way, she would most certainly spill the beans on him. And naturally, her two main concerns were her sister's and mother's well-deserved happiness. And of course, he'd be happy to lend a helping hand for their business should the need arise._

_Blackmail? Perhaps… but really, all just good business._

_As for her relationships with said mother and sister, things shouldn't be too badly disturbed even if she went back. According to the time difference (calculated with the help of a very puzzled business partner well-versed in mathematics), and assuming she was able to travel back and forth smoothly between the worlds, Alice should appear to visit her family every few days for every few months passed in Underland. As for questions about where she had settled, Alice just hoped that Helen could be distracted for now by her first grandchild – Margaret's and Lowell's new son Thomas._

_Alice smiled slightly as she remembered holding the baby in her arms for the first time… soft ache in her chest as she inhaled his milky scent and saw Margaret's eyes sparkle. A secret voice seemed to whisper to her – "A bonny bairn indeed." A soft purring brogue which anyone else might have taken for Scottish, but that Alice knew to be the Underlandian equivalent of Outlandish._

…_Which incidentally led to her third conviction for returning. Her success didn't change the fact that she was growing dangerously close to the age of twenty-five – the crux of spinsterhood amongst the aristocracy. And for all her pride, Helen could never quite restrain the less-than-subtle hints to her younger daughter. "Alice, of course you'll always be beautiful to me, but Margaret's right; your face won't last forever"… "Alice, I wish that you could know the happiness I knew with your father"… "Alice, darling, will you never settle down?"_

_But there was no-one and nothing for her here. Not in that sense. The only one she could imagine was of another world._

_She had to choose… and soon._

"_And who is to say my face won't last forever in Wonderland?" she muttered. "If Time refuses the Hatter, perhaps he'll do the same for me. Now how to anger Time? But for that matter, how to get back at all?! I can't just randomly visit the Ascot's mansion, fall down a rabbit hole and never return! I need another way…"_

_She sighed._

"_Nivens McTwisp… I could use a little help here."_

**_CRASH!!!_**

_Alice jumped violently, almost knocking over the chair as she whipped around to stare at the opposite wall where the fireplace was. On the floor lay a shattered porcelain figurine. However, Alice's eyes were drawn upwards to the large mirror hanging above the mantelpiece whence the ornament had fallen._

_There was a rabbit sticking out of it._

_Or more specifically, there was the front half of a white rabbit with pink eyes wearing a blue brocade waistcoat sticking out of the mirror surface, which had taken on a shimmering liquid appearance. The rabbit clutched a sliver pocket-watch in one paw, which he tapped frantically._

"_Well, speak of the devil" breathed Alice, beyond relieved that her mother was absent. "Nivens! What…?"_

_But she got no further. The rabbit made a distinct 'Hurry, come on' gesture and retreated through the mirror. With no real reason to hesitate, Alice pushed the chair to the fireplace, climbed up and followed him through the rippling glass._

_

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__  
Stumbling onto a hard floor, squinting against the bright light, she looked up to see the White Queen, Mirana of Marmoreal, rushing towards her, elegant even in visible worry. They seemed to be in a private chamber of the palace._

_Grasping her hands, Mirana sighed. "Dear Champion Alice, welcome back to Underland. Thank you so for returning."_

"_Your Majesty, what ever is the matter?" asked Alice. Mirana's hands shook slightly, her brow was drawn tight. "Has something happened? Has the Red Queen returned?"_

"_No, no, my sister remains in exile with her Knave. They pose no threat. No, the problem lies far closer to hand, within our own."_

"…_A traitor then, your Majesty?"_

"_Not exactly. Rather, a loyal one betrayed by their very own mind and body."_

_Alice frowned, confused. "…What do you mean, my Lady?"_

_The White Queen paced a few steps, then turned to Alice. "I do so hate to be the bearer of ill tidings…you may wish to sit down, my dear."_

_

* * *

_

_"I hope you still recall the details of Underland since your last visit here… the people and their…ah, manners?"_

"_I'm quite sure I've forgotten nothing, my Queen. Does the March Hare still fling china with such enthusiasm? Absolem still smoke? I've not seen him since I set sail; is the smoke bad for his wings? Does the Hatter…Tarrant…is Time still angry with him?"_

_Mirana sighed. "Tarrant…and there lies our problem."_

_Alice gasped. "T-Tarrant…problem? Why, what is wrong with him?! Wh–"_

_Mirana abruptly placed a hand over Alice's mouth, cutting her rising voice off. "Hush! Don't shout! It's bad enough already!"_

_Alice shrugged her away. "What is?" She hissed back._

_Mirana gestured out of the window. Despite the gleaming white light of the palace, Alice could clearly see ominously dark clouds swirling in the late afternoon sky, threatening rain. The wind seemed to moan miserably as a growl of far-off thunder reverberated through the palace._

"_Underland reflects the emotions of those with strong ties" Mirana whispered. "Whether bonded to this land or something of the Upperworld, our very being is tied into the elements. Because Tarrant is effectively timeless now, he is essentially at one with the eternal land, and so much more so for his strong feelings."_

"_Feelings…?" A shiver ran through Alice as she remembered the primal fury of his imprisonment at Salizam Grumb._

_Mirana nodded. "Since you left, his fits of madness became more frequent and far stronger. More angry, but sad and terrified…Aggravated by the realisation that even though my sister is now gone, he was still alone – his clan is dead or scattered and he has no family to speak of… save for you. You know he loved you, Alice… He still does. He kept saying that he couldn't find you, but that you wouldn't have broken your promise. He has come to present a danger to himself and others. As such, he is restrained in a private, guarded chamber of the far east wing. I am told that his latest fit remains current at three days span tonight."_

_Alice shook her head frantically. "But…But I thought he had family in his friends here. You, Thackery, Chessur, Nivens, Mallyumkin… Couldn't Mally help him? She always could before!"_

_Before the White Queen could reply, a dark silvery mist formed before Alice's face, swirling to eventually coalesce into the floating shape of the Chesshire Cat. Despite the gravity of the situation, he floated before her with his ever-present grin stretched crescent-wise from ear to ear. Alice was about to ask snippily if he must insist on grinning more when the situation ever called less for such expression, when she caught sight of the mouse huddled between his forepaws._

_Mallyumkin glared up at Alice and yelled. "A li'l sooner woulda bin much appreciated, ya great lump!"_

"_Now now Mally", crooned Chessur, "our friend here doesn't seem to know the full state of things. Why don't you show her?"_

"_Fine frien' she is" grumbled Mally as she grudgingly turned around. Alice gasped as she saw that the mouse's tail was only half as long as before, the end kinked by scar tissue. Stumbling back, she sought out Mirana's eyes for explanation._

"_You see, Alice, when Tarrant suffers from such strong fits, the pain of his emotions is too much for him to bear, so his own psyche withdraws deep inside so as to essentially hibernate through the trauma. As such, he is all but numb to his environment, and only strong feelings can bring him back. Before, something as small as a pinch, a touch to the cheek or a pin-prick could bring him back. But now, his mind is so much deeper in that only extreme sensation can suffice. The amount of pain required poses a risk such as might only be achieved by a dreadful wound, which is out of the question. Nor can we get close enough to him safely to hit a harmless pressure point – the last time Mallyumkin tried, she received the wound you see here, as he shook her off and stepped on her tail, crushing the end. So our only option is the polar opposite sensation."_

_Alice's head jerked sharply. "I… What? The polar opposite… of extreme…pain?…So… extreme joy? Happiness?"_

"_Close, my dear". The Queen sighed." The fits are emotional even though the cure is essentially physical. In this case, they must be combined – extreme __**pleasure**__. Of both the body and mind."_

Chessur cut in smoothly. "And yes, luv, she is indeed saying what you think she's saying. The action you can take to help us and our dear Tarrant are… in your dear mother's words, no doubt… those of 'marital relations'". As Alice glared at him, his grin widened impossibly. "Or not thereof… after all, you're not married, are you? Naughty…" And he and Mally faded from sight, the shoe Alice threw at him hitting the wall harmlessly.

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Alice sighed as she came back to her present self.

"What to do?"

If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure if there was any decision to be made. There was no solid argument against it. Certainly it wasn't what she had initially planned upon her return to Wonderland – However she felt about Hat– _Tarrant_, she had hoped to take things a little more slowly! But then, life was never like that here, or even at home – she was always swept up one way or another, whether in finding her way through gardens, mazes, around China or the offices, from slaying Jabberwockies to dismissing suitors (and on occasion, climbing from her window trellis to sneak swims with the Chattaway twins in the fountain). So really, what was so hard about this?

She understood the concept of 'the act of love' quite well. Really, what young female acquaintance of the Chattaway twins wouldn't? Not to mention some of the temple engravings, books and scrolls which she had sneaked looks at in China and India on the return trip… Alice blushed lightly as she remembered some particular images of that one known as the 'Kama Sutra', if she remembered correctly… Oh, how the young Indian maids had giggled on finding it hidden in her chambers!

And to be fair, although her mother and sister had refused any discussion improper details (Margaret, as usual, not wanting to 'ruin the surprise'), they had at least told her the basic mechanics – luckily, both women had clearly been lucky in their experiences with their husbands (Alice wrinkled her nose at the thought of undeserving Lowell with her sister – impotency would have served him right!), so she hadn't been frightened with horror stories. But still, it was clear that a passive role was expected of her (_"Just lie back and think of England!")_ – after all, what fine aristocratic lady (or man for that matter) would allow themselves to become so 'uncouthly wild with passion'?

Alice smirked a little. If there was one thing she wasn't, it was a proper lady. So what better way to express her personal rebellion? If she could dance bare-legged before the gathering of that dreadful would-be engagement party, she could surely bare far more in private! To take a dominant role in…making love…would be quite a revolution! Besides, she was comfortably confidant with her own body – no muchness lost now! – and she certainly would rather do this with Tarrant where she could be herself than some cold, strange Lord like in a business contract. Finally she needn't worry about a bad reputation if Underland knew that this was for a friend… She would simply have to tell her mother than she had wanted a private wedding… or to elope, if only to see the look on her face.

"_You cannot live your life to please others. The choice must be yours."_

'_Well'_, Alice sighed, _'it all comes back to a rather circular argument. The act… sex… it really is the most natural thing in the world. Besides, if all goes well, I should have plenty of knowledge after tonight. But there's no harm in extra wising up meanwhile.'_

She rose and opened the door, determined to ask Mirana for some clarifying female advice… and permission to visit the library.

****

Curiouser and curiouser indeed, my dear Alice.

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**Author's Notes**

****** I KNOW it's now called Beijing now, but in Victorian times, I think the capital of China was still called Peking. I'm a stickler for details, but I'm really pulling crap outta my butt when talking about the company business… I hope it sounds plausible.

Please R&R – Constructive criticism much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3 Dreamtime

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Alice in Wonderland, least of all Tim Burton's amazing work. Nor do I own any of the scripted lines or rhymes below.

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**Chapter 3 – 'Dreamtime'**

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Having bathed and now dressed in only a silk robe the colour of sapphires, Alice stood in the small antechamber of the Hatter's room. The White Queen had left her here after hearing Alice's decision, smiling at her somewhat babbled attempts to explain her reasoning, and agreeing with a calm smile that "there is no shame in it, my dear Champion".

Now, only a door stood between herself and the man she was to try and help. The man she was supposed to know how to bring _extreme pleasure_ to.

… Yes, thank goodness for those books indeed.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door-handle. Before she could turn it, however, she leapt back as two eyes and a crescent grin appeared barely an inch from her own nose.

"Hmm…So you going to go ahead and just _do_ it then, are you, dear Alice?" The Cat's grin became distinctly lascivious. "You'll want to be careful… before he was restrained, he attempted to strangle the White Queen when she tried to calm him… not to mention he actually _threw_ that oh-so _lovely_ hat right across the room. I barely saved it from sailing out of the window and straight into the pond." He smirked. "Of course, I'm happily acting as its personal safeguard for now."

Alice scowled at him, sorely tempted to yank at his tail… had it been present. "Your encouragement does _nothing_ for the nerves, Chessur. I'll be fine."

"So certain? But will _he _be is the question? Of course, it's none of my business, so I'll let you get on with it." Baring his fangs, most of Chessur's visible form vanished from sight. The grin, however, remained, and a tongue lashed from between the teeth. "I _did_ notice your knees are rather trembling, though… but then, perhaps your legs will be shaking all the more after tonight, mmm…?" With a final chuckle, the mouth appeared to zip up and was gone.

Alice bared her own teeth in aggravation. There was no denying she was nervous… but then, one never performed well unless they were, right? _'**'Performed'**…Oh bother.'_ She shook her head one last time to clear it, seized the handle and pushed the door open abruptly before her will retreated.

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Before her was a fair-sized room, which in daylight would have been white, but by the dim evening reinforced with the dark, swirling clouds outside the window it appeared a series of shades from pale silver slashes of moonlight to slate-grey deepening to black shadows. Although the rain still held off, lightning struck through the air, illuminating in an electric white-blue flash the bed across from the door and the twitching figure spread-eagled upon it.

The Hatter's eyes flared open as she approached, hot embers glowing through the darkness.

Alice felt slightly faint as the burning orbs locked onto her… yet they seemed to see straight through her.

Tarrant opened his mouth and let out a snarl that was echoed by the thunder, tugging at the cuffs attaching his hands and feet to the bed-posts with a foot of fine chain giving each limb some leeway so as to not strain the joints. True, he had been struggling here for three days (as the raw marks around his wrists and ankles showed), but the angry adrenaline of his madness allowed him no rest. Alice could see how the shadows around his eyes has darkened to a deep indigo, his hair was longer and utterly, wildly disordered, his face so pale that it glowed eerily in the moonlight. His fingers clenched, the nails curving like claws.

He seemed a devilish mockery of himself… Yet Alice could still see her friend – no, _so much more_ – in him.

Alice approached the bed, circling to the head-board and tried to touch his face, whispering his name. He froze at her voice – but she wrenched her hand back from his cheek with a yelp as he whipped his head around to snap at her fingers. A surge of anger flooded through her suddenly – anger at herself for not coming back sooner, at life for always needing her to help others so drastically, at _him_ for making this so _difficult, _and she tore the satiny garment from her body, flinging it to the floor and seized his shoulders to push him down and smash her lips against his own.

Lighting cracked again through the room as his teeth sank into the flesh of her mouth and she pulled away, their jaws stained with blood. Both panted, glaring at each other.

Alice hissed at him over his angry growls. "You've got yourself into this because you wanted me here. You could show a little appreciation! I'm going to help you Tarrant, whether you like it or not!"

She straddled his chest and seized his head, sinking her fingers through his hair and covered his mouth with her own again, pressing hard so as to immobilise him. His body heaved under hers, the chains rattling as she writhed against him. He stilled momentarily and she raised herself, leaning forward over him to gently lick at his visibly sore, bound hands. Taking a ravaged finger tip into her mouth, she heard him groan softly, then let out a gasp of her own as he raised his head to taste her breasts which hung above his face. She moaned softly as his tongue swirled against the hardening peaks, accentuated by his teeth nipping them lightly.

"T-Tarrant…" She whispered, wriggling back down his torso, bringing her face level with his again. His eyes flickered briefly towards her own. That moment was enough for her to see that they had changed from amber to a deep, glittering crimson. Heat swept through her at the sight, before she saw him become distracted, lifting his head to strain his tongue towards her slender neck, moaning.

"No… not yet." She withdrew further down his body, soothing his howl of frustration with a series of licks and kisses travelling down the flesh of his throat, collarbone, chest and the pale, muscled abdomen. Judging from his sighs as she swirled and dipped her tongue into his navel and nipped down the 'treasure trail' of auburn hairs leading lower, she was doing pretty well so far. She now straddled his thighs, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal pressed to her bare centre through the cloth of the loose white leggings he had been dressed in. She closed her eyes and shifted her hips, drawing a moan from Tarrant. Looking up through half-lidded eyes at him, she saw his molten gaze fixed on her as he strained his neck forwards, his mouth open.

Smiling, Alice moved backwards off of him, hearing a longing groan from him. She grasped the waistband of the leggings and pulled them down, freeing the length beneath. She gasped slightly, heat flooding her cheeks as she stared. All the picture-books in the world couldn't have prepared her for the sight of the fleshy rod sprung upright, a soft pink shade blushing deeper to almost magenta at the head.

Recalling her mind, she moved around it at first, instead nipping at the smooth skin of his inner thigh, smirking as he practically wailed at her denial. She placed a hand in the air, barely a centimetre above the straining flesh onto which she then blew a soft breath. He went dead still. She looked up at him whispering warningly "behave".

He barely breathed, and after a moment of nuzzling his hip, she took pity on him.

Hesitantly, she touched the tip with a finger, then flinched back as he hissed and jerked sharply, his eyes rolling back and clenching shut, afraid that she had hurt him. However, as she didn't move, his flaming eyes opened again to lock desperately on her, almost begging. Gently, she reached out again, stroking the base upwards to the head and back, her other hand lightly kneading the sac of tightened flesh below. He let out a bark as she lowered her head to take the tip into her mouth, extending her tongue down the length and sucking lightly. But as he bucked his hips up sharply, trying to push deeper into her touch, she raised her head again, turning away to unshackle his ankles. After all, this would be far easier if those leggings were to come off altogether.

* * *

Tarrant could only focus on the sensations that stormed him. This… figure of the right colours seemed to have appeared out of the shadows of his nightmare and turned it to a dream. There was no red or white now, just a cocoon of deep silvery-blue, with this beacon of glowing cream and white-gold feminity who had replaced the pain with unimaginable bliss. He wanted so badly to touch, to taste that flesh, but she wouldn't let him. Even if she was only a dream, he wanted her to stay. He could never touch her… and now she was no longer touching him.

He stared at her as she turned away. Where was she going? Was she leaving him? _**'Nae!' **_Even as a dream, must _**she**_ always leave him? He saw her reach for the shackles, the damned _slurking urpal slackush_ prison chains, and even though it was _naught for usal_ to fight them he had to try, he wouldn't let her leave, couldn't let her go, even if she was only a dream she was **_his_** dream (_"I'll decide where it goes from here!"_) and **She. Would. Not. Leave. Him. Again.**

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*

* * *

Lighting and thunder crashed together and Alice gasped as an orange glow seemed to erupt around her out of Tarrant's body*******, the shackles breaking. As she turned back to face him, he lunged for her, one hand fisted in her hair and one arm around her upper body, yanking her back to him as they fell back against the bed. He twisted impossibly sharply, catlike, to reverse them so she landed under him. The leggings have been kicked off and landed… she doesn't know where. Pinned helplessly, she felt his hot lips against her throat, felt them vibrate as he moaned against her flesh. Gasping, almost sobbing, she arched her neck backwards, giving him better access as his hand pulled at her hair. With a soft growl, he lifted his head to lick the shell of her ear, blowing cool air across it, hearing her sigh. Nipping the lobe to make sure she was listening, he snarled the first coherent word he'd spoken in… who knew how long?

**_"Mine."_**

Alice whimpered, nodding frantically, nuzzling his neck, licking the hollows of the flesh as she whispered "yes, yes, yours, _yours_…_mine_."

"_Yours"_ he murmured, before adding, as though to clarify, _**"Hers. Alice's"**__._

Alice suddenly felt a sob rising in her throat as she understood – He thought this was a dream, a dream he could think outside of, and even though he thought she wasn't real (_"She's the wrong Alice!"_), he held what he saw as the closest he could get to the real her… only wanting _her_, determined to be loyal to her, even in a dream.

Like a champion.

A champion of the heart.

Abruptly, she felt him moving, and before she could even process what was happening, her whole body shifted and jerked, her inner muscled stretching agonizingly as he sheathed his length inside her with a choked sigh. She flinched and whimpered at the undeniable pain of the tearing intrusion, only for her whine to be muffled by his mouth.

* * *

*

* * *

Tarrant threw back his head, arching his neck at the delirium of heat and pressure surrounding him. Revelling in the sensation, he pressed his lips to those of the woman beneath him, staring into the brown orbs that he might drown in, that were so like _**hers**_ that he could almost believe it.

Eyes welled with unshod tears.

Pulling back, confused, he felt that she had frozen, painfully tensed. Her body shuddered and as he pressed his mouth to her throat, he felt her heart thunder.

She was in pain.

Dismay swelled within him. She was only a dream, but it was practically real to him, so this was practically the real Alice… he would never mean to hurt his Alice! Didn't she understand that? Was that why she never stayed? Was she scared he would hurt her?

He had to show her he didn't mean it… he was sorry…

Dipping his head, he showered soft bread-and-butterfly kisses along her jawline, her brow, her cheeks and lips. Gently, he touched his nose to hers, gazing into her shimmering eyes. She stared up at him, her mouth curving into a slight smile as her body relaxed around his. His own mouth mirrored the pattern, but as she reached up a hand towards his face he pinned it back to the pillow, shaking his head. Only the real Alice could do that…

Unable to hold still any longer, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Her own bucked upwards to meet him, her cheeks flushing as a small _"unh"_ of pleasure escaped from her lips. Pleased with her reaction, he repeated the movement, met again by her returning force, their bodies falling naturally into the ancient, sensual rhythm.

Slight grunts escape Tarrant's mouth, mingling with Alice's hoarse sighs as they undulated together, their pace gradually growing faster. Flesh stroked flesh, the sweet, cleansing salt of perspiration gleaming on skin. Their lips locked together, tongues entwined, tasting each other, each swallowing the other's vocalizations. Alice revelled in the unashamed magic of the experience as Tarrant tasted the purest colours of sweet spiced fruits in her body as a blissful dream.

_Taste…Mark… **Mine**…_

As their frantic rocking became faster and less smooth, Alice shuddered, clasping Tarrant's shoulder with her free hand, digging her nails into the flesh as her pleasure grew to a peak. Letting out a wordless cry which was swallowed by Tarrant's mouth, she felt her body spasm with an impossible thrill and she bit down on his lip as she tensed and shook, forgetting to breathe in the moment.

Tarrant tore his mouth from hers as he felt her body clench around him, and he roared in his own shattering climax. Blinded momentarily by pleasure, he sunk his teeth sharply into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breaking the skin there by a pin-prick, tasting the droplet of rich coppery liquid which trickled out. He withdrew, licking at the circle of dents left in the flesh, before he slumped panting atop her.

His face was utterly calm.

Alice, now limp beneath him, held him close, breathing in his scent. Shifting, she allowed his weight to fall to her side, his head resting on her shoulder as his legs tangled with hers. Twining the curls of his hair, she murmured softly into his ear. "Tarrant?"

His eyes slowly opened, and she could see that the colour had all but burst into a bright golden shade, like fireworks. But as she watched, they slowly faded, darkening to a sane green. But not the bright green she knew and so longed for – rather, a deep, sober teal like the jasper of bloodstone. And just as hers had minutes before, his eyes now welled with tears.

"Al–" He stopped. A lucid thought whispered through his mind. _'I cannot call this one by __**her**__ name…she is not the real one. She is a dream…'_ "Angel" he finished, his voice cracking.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. _'Have I failed to heal him? Was I… no good after all?'_

"…I will miss you when I wake up" he breathed.

Her heart could have broken. She remembered those words. "You still think this is all a dream, do you?"

He nodded helplessly, his voice shaking. "I'm afraid so… you're just a figment of my imagination. I'm _more_ than half-mad after all. I'm sorry." He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she could feel his tears spill down her throat as he continued, muffled. "But for what it's worth, I want you to stay. Stay with me, Angel-dream." His words took on a strange rhythm. "Remain you thus throughout the night, and be thou flesh by dawn's fair light… Oh, a rhyme…"

As he drifted to sleep, she cast her own hair around them and nuzzled the top of his head. "I'm no angel," she whispered, feeling him breathe, his arms possessively encircling her waist, "but I'll always stay here for you now. I promise."

_"I love you, Tarrant Hightopp."_

She hears him sigh softly and murmur her name in his sleep, and now she joins him in dreams.

**  
Outside, the rain finally falls.**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

******* This was random… I wanted an unexpected way for him to break the restraints and I coupled the usual theme of mad-men having unnatural strength and stamina (if you see some people with a mental or physical disability, such as being on the autistic spectrum, they may move constantly such as spinning around for hours on end non-stop and yet still not sleep) with Johnny Depp's comment on viewing the Hatter's mercury poisoning as "coming out through his hair, through his fingernails and eyes." Hey, it's Underland, the magic doesn't have to make sense!

Please R&R – Constructive criticism much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4 Awakening

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Alice in Wonderland, least of all Tim Burton's amazing work. Nor do I own any of the scripted lines or rhymes below.

* * *

**Chapter Four (Epilogue) – 'Awakening'**

* * *

Tarrant was aware of warmth, of smooth cotton, a feeling of utter contentment… and a pale light shining through his eyelids. Grumbling, he rolled over to bury his face away from the sun (really, if Time would do nothing for him, did he have to acknowledge the Morning?), only to freeze as he felt… soft skin… against his own.

Hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to open his eyes should this mysterious figure vanish, he extended a hand to further explore what seemed to be a shoulder. A small, silken shoulder which felt that it could only be the perfect shade of sugar-sweet vanilla and honeysuckle… he knew the flavour of that touch…

His eyes, not to be denied any longer, snapped open.

_**She**_ was here.

"_**Alice…"**_ he whispered reverently, tracing from the bare, tooth-bruised shoulder on which his hand rested up the line of her neck to her lovely face. Her eyes were closed, the lashes brushing her cheeks, and in her beautiful mouth was the hint of a smile.

"I have kissed that bonny mouth…" Tarrant whispered under his breath to himself, his eyes widening as everything flooded back to him. "I have touched you, Alice, you're really here, you were here then, it's really you, you're here and your own size, the right proper Alice-size, and it's a bonny perfect size Alice, you are perfect–!" He cut himself off abruptly as her nose twitched. He didn't want to wake her…

"But it cannae be helped, my dear" Tarrant murmured as he drew his face closer to hers. "I can _never_ help mysel' aroound ye." With that, he dropped a sweet, gentle kiss upon each of her eyes before bestowing a final one on her mouth.

* * *

Alice came awake to warm lips against her own. Her eyes fluttered open to see the beautiful sight of two bright green orbs, the shade of sunlight filtering through young leaves and she laughed in joy. "Hatter! You…?"

"I have never been better, my beloved Alice. And yes," he smiled, "I know that it's really you, and I'm very glad for that indeed, my dear. After all, there is no one else to whom I can say what I'm about to say, as it would not only be untrue, but also very improper – doubly so because of course it is most improper to tell an untruth, and I would hardly tell such a heinous thing to you, so–"

"Hatter! _Tarrant_!" Alice giggled as she cut him off, clasping his face – now glowing like white pearl in the soft dawn light, the shadows of his eyes brightened to a pale rose – in her hands. "Just tell me!"

Tarrant smiled. "Gladly, Alice dear. First of all, I love you. And second" – he pressed a finger to her opened lips – "Ah-ah! I am now going to thank you for what you gave me last night, my love."

"Ah…? What? T-Tarrant, what do you mean _'thank me'_? Where are you going?!" She moved to follow him as he swung himself off the bed and put on the discarded leggings, only to feel a jerk and realise that he had somehow managed to tie her hand to the bed-post with what appeared to be the strip of fabric used to tie her blue robe shut the previous evening. She gaped at him as he waggled the fingers of his dextrous hatter-hands at her, grinning.

"Don't worry, love. I won't be a moment. As I seem to recall you telling me…_behave_." The grin grew to a smirk and his voice lowered to a promising, purring brogue. "I'll drive ye as mad as myself, my bonny."

She leaned back and smiled in resigned anticipation as she heard him speak to a passing footman outside the door… "Yes, two strong, sweet teas my good man, and a large jug of cream. A _very_ large jug, if you please. And strawberries."

She could certainly get used to this sort of… breakfast in bed. _'Oh yes.'_

* * *

Later – much, much later – Tarrant raises his head from Alice's flushed, strawberry-stained skin, cream smeared liberally about his mouth, only to see a very familiar top-hat out of the corner of his vision.

A top-hat floating in mid-air in the corner of the room.

**_  
"CHESSUR!!!"_**

**Finis**

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Okay, this was originally written for the Livejournal Alice Kink section, but I think I spun it out a bit too much… besides, it's too sappy for a real kink. Sorry if it's too rushed or too heavy for some, but his is my first time writing romance, so if you don't like, don't read.

Please R&R – Constructive criticism much appreciated!


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